


Don't Jump

by Nopholom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Prompt Fic, Sibling incest (not explicit), World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nopholom/pseuds/Nopholom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Michael and Lucifer are brothers who have just arrived in Europe to fight for the Allies. On the night before their first battle, they attend a USO dance fully aware that this night could be their last.<br/>(Actual fic strays slightly from the prompt but the gist is the same)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Jump

**Author's Note:**

  * For [420Mama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/420Mama/gifts).



“You feel it too right?” Luke asked, trying to watch Michael’s fingers as they fastened the pale tie around his neck, his brother was never happy with how he tied the damned thing, always had to fix it himself because it ‘wasn’t up to standard’ and Luke would ‘get a whipping for it’.

“Feel what Luke?” Michael asked, sounding tired of his little brother’s questions, but he _always_ sounded tired of Luke’s questions, it seemed to be a key part of their relationship growing up,

“Like we might die soon…” Michael’s hands stilled, Luke’s tie knotted but not tightened, his brother was just staring at him now, wide eyed and stunned by what his little brother had just said.

“Don’t think like that,” Michael hissed, tightening Luke’s tie maybe a little too tight, but Luke loosened it pretty quickly, watching his brother turn to the mirror to tie his own tie.

“I’m not thinking like that Michael… but… I feel it…” he said softly, finding his cufflinks and fitting them, he felt like tomorrow was the beginning of the end, like he would go up in one of those planes on D-Day and he would never see his brother again.

It reminded him of when he was a child, he’d woken up one morning and rushed to Michael’s room, shaking him awake, crying and begging him to wake up, Michael had been annoyed, had berated him for being such a pain in the ass, but when Luke said why he was crying, Michael had gone quiet. He thought their dad was going to vanish, had a gut feeling that urged him into his dad’s arms frequently proclaiming how much he loved him that day. Two days later, they woke up to find their mother crying; their father had left during the night and taken everything of worth.

“Don’t,” Michael said, looking at Luke in the mirror, his slightly taller, younger brother was watching him back, sad looking and weary,

“But—“ Luke began, but Michael turned and interrupted,

“No, you keep your _feelings_ to yourself Luke, we’re coming back from this,” he insisted, and Luke fell quiet, sighing and finishing pulling on his dress uniform. Michael didn’t say a word after that, but he did help comb Luke’s hair into something smarter looking, handing him his hat before heading out of the door of their meagre quarters. They were headed to a dance, it was the last one before Michael was sent one way and Luke was sent the other, he had been given brief leave before D-day because of a near-miss accident on his cycle, leave he’d opted to spend with his brother.

Luke stood on the side-lines at the dance, he had no interest in dancing with the British girls, unlike his brother, who was schmoozing his way through the ranks, picking up any pretty thing without a man on her arm, it was typical of him. Luke didn’t mind though, he knew Michael wasn’t serious, he didn’t even take the girls for a sneaky quickie, he just danced with them, let them enjoy themselves and his skilled footwork. He wore a smile as he watched, catching Michael’s eye every so often, leaving him further inclined to decline any requests for a dance from the young women who approached him.

“Quit looking so sour Luke,” Michael had approached him, expression weary but amused as he propped himself against the wall beside him,

“I’m smiling Michael,” Luke pointed out, smirk growing as he glanced at his brother,

“Yes but you look miserable,” Michael noted, and the mirth was gone from his voice, his expression saddening slightly, “Is it your gut?” he asked, Luke eyeing him, the two sharing a look, one that made Michael crumple in grief, “you’re sure?” Luke nodded, “Lord I hope it’s both of us,” he sighed, brushing their hands together lightly,

“What say we liven this boring do up?” Luke asked, Michael frowning at him until Luke’s hand found his and he was pulled from the wall.

“Luke this is inappropriate,” Michael hissed, “We can’t do this here,”

“We’re brothers, they’ll think we’re fooling about,” Luke smirked, and he was right, their fellow soldiers just laughed at them as Luke turned to face his brother, pulling him in close, ready to dance.

Michael took the laughter as reassurance and clasped Luke’s hand in his, settling his other hand on Luke’s hip, his brother happily taking the female role this once; they began to move to the music, brisk yet intimate as they matched if not bested the other dancers in the room. People not dancing sat aside and tittered, amused at their antics and boldness, though there were some disapproving looks from the older generation milling around, finding their tomfoolery unwelcome at such a time.

The whole point of the dance was to let go though, so there was nothing they could do about the two young men near-embracing on the dance floor, not with the platonic guise of brothers to shield them.

“Don’t go,” Michael said abruptly, they continued to move even though Luke was regarding him with confusion in his eyes, “miss your jump, we’ll say you were ill,”

“I can’t miss my jump, I’ll be branded a coward,” Luke stated,

“Better a coward than dead,” Michael grumbled, but not even _he_ believed that, that mentality had been beaten out of him in basic training. “Why would you leave if you knew it lead to death?” Michael asked,

“I don’t know… maybe I believe in reincarnation,” Luke mused, Michael frowning, “that maybe somewhere down the line, I’ll come back, you’ll come back, but we won’t be brothers anymore, and this won’t be illegal at all… we’ll meet, and I’ll hold you, kiss you, make love to you… nobody will question it, we won’t have to hide…” his voice was hushed, only Michael could hear him over the music,

“You think dying will bring that quicker? Luke you’re insane,”

“No, I’m optimistic… but I don’t know if it’s going to be me, Michael,” Luke pointed out, meeting Michael’s gaze, silently telling him what that meant, “And I want to be as far away as possible, as unreachable by communications as possible so I can carry on pretending you’re okay for as long as my will can carry me,” he uttered, and Michael wanted to weep, to wake up from this nightmare, from his brother’s cruel prediction that he _knew_ would come to fruition, because god he felt it too.

“I can’t do this,” he pulled away then, Luke falling after him, trying to keep a hold of his brother but Michael was gone, darting from the main hall, leaving his brother to follow sluggishly behind.

Michael was in a lone empty room at the back of the building when Luke found him, clutching the splintered edge of a desk and scrunching his eyes closed, shoulders shaking as he tried to hold back his overwhelming emotions. Luke closed the gap, pressing his hands to Michael’s shoulders, massaging them lightly as he peered over his shoulder; Michael relaxed some, shrugging from Luke’s grasp and turning around, reaching up to run his fingers over the scruff of Luke’s jaw, Luke knew Michael hated when he didn’t shave, but he didn’t care.

Luke sealed their mouths together, hands cupping Michael’s jaw, tilting his head slightly and deepening the kiss; Michael accepted it, pushing himself against his brother eagerly, running his hands through his hair and trying to pull him closer, knocking his hat to the ground.

It was risky doing this here, but Michael didn’t care so Luke didn’t either, moving his hands to Michael’s hips and lifting him to sit him on the desk, easing between spread thighs and kissing him harder, desperate to meld together and become one. Michael was the one to break the kiss though, pushing Luke away and panting, he’d gotten a grip on his emotions, held back any sorrowful urges, he just wanted to make love to his brother, but that seemed final, like a goodbye, and he couldn’t do that, couldn’t admit that Luke was right about this.

“We need to stop…” Michael growled, and Luke stepped away, picking up his hat before turning on his heel and heading back to the dance, leaving his brother to do whatever he needed to do; he distracted himself by dancing with anyone who wanted to, even sneaking a kiss here or there. He wanted Michael to be angry when he was back, to draw some of that possessive nature from his older brother to make their last night together one to remember, but Michael never returned to the dance, somehow he had slipped away without Luke knowing.

He was asleep in his cot when Luke stumbled into their quarters, he’d maybe found an old bottle of whiskey in the town hall, cracked the rare antique open and downed the burning liquid as he staggered home. He dumped the bottle on the side and approached Michael’s sleeping form, dropping onto his backside on the floor and running his fingers over his brother’s sleeping face.

“Love you…” he mumbled, “Love you so much… I… I don’t want to die Michael… please don’t let me die…” he whimpered, dragging a hand down his own face, trying to get a grip, he didn’t know it would be him, but with D-day fast approaching, he sort of _did_ , he knew he wasn’t going to walk out of this one, wasn’t going to see his brother again, that was enough to kill him on its own. He pushed off of the floor and slipped into Michael’s cot, it was cramped and his joining woke Michael up, but the older male didn’t say anything, just pulled Luke’s arm around him and accepted his presence before drifting off again.

The following morning, Luke took his motorcycle and rode to Aldbourne, less than a month had passed before an older officer approached Michael with a letter saying that his brother had been on the plane that had crashed near Beuzeville-au-Plain on the 6th of June.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for not tagging the character death, I didn't want to spoil it?


End file.
